


Aging Potion

by PinkCripps



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Friendship, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Fourth Year, POV Hermione Granger, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, im trying to say they arent immediately inflamed with lust for each other, of a sort at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22126345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkCripps/pseuds/PinkCripps
Summary: Hermione uses a potion to disguise herself as she sneaks out to Hogsmeade. However, her illusions of a smooth escapeade are shattered as she comes across Professor Snape in a bookstore.What she didn’t know, however, was how that chance meeting would forever change her relationship with Severus Snape.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 83
Kudos: 343





	1. flirtatious

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU, Harry figures out the Egg Clue a few days earlier than in canon, thus giving them time to research.

Hermione tread through the tunnel, knowing she was getting dirt on Harry’s invisibility cloak and being too nervous to care. She wiped the potion bottle she was holding on her robes, made sticky by her sweaty palms. The end of the tunnel drew nearer with every shaky step; she would put on her disguise once she got to the shack.

For the nth time, Hermione questioned her sanity in agreeing to do this. Sneaking out? Endangering herself? Breaking tons of school rules? It was very out of character for her. If she got caught—well, that didn’t even bear thinking about.

Hermione felt she should be doing this under the cloak of night, the darkness hiding her crimes. That it was the middle of the day, with light streaming through the windows and birds chirping, felt inappropriate. She took off the cloak as she entered the Shrieking Shack and unstoppered the potion, wrinkling her nose at the smell. She considered the bottle for a long time and the bright, almost neon yellow color of its contents. Then, without warning, she tipped her head up and downed it all.

Hermione felt a prickle spread outwards from her torso to the ends of her arms and legs. Her skin felt stretched and itchy in its wake, which wasn’t helped by her clothes pressing into her. They were slightly too small for her now, although she knew they still fit.

Hermione wandered around for a mirror, wanting to double-check that the aging potion had worked.

She was quite proud of herself for thinking of using a potion for a disguise. Although underage magic was not allowed outside of school, the law did not forbid consuming a potion. By using a potion in the Shrieking Shack instead of spelling something on in school, she could avoid the risk of someone seeing her in disguise at Hogwarts. Plus, if someone checked her wand for identity-concealing spells, they wouldn’t find anything incriminating. It was genius!

Hermione smiled smugly to herself. She had found the potion while perusing _The Big Book of Unusual Brews._ The brew was an aging potion that doubled your current age. It made for a okay cover-up, but most importantly, most of its ingredients were things in her beginners’s potions kit.

Her smile lessened when she viewed herself in the mirror, however. There was a reason this potion was not commonly used. It was not strong enough to overcome most age restriction charms, which warded off the minors trying to sneak alcohol. You also couldn’t choose what age you wanted; it was always twice your current.

But worst of all (at least to Hermione right now) was that it had the side effect of turning your hair into the most disgusting shade of yellow. It was an unappealing color between soggy sponge and old teeth. Combined with her rat’s nest of a hairstyle, there truly was never a more horrendous sight.

Hermione shook her head. It didn’t matter. In fact, it helped her disguise. She never cared about her appearance before, and there was no reason to start now. The rest of her looked fine anyway.

She was an inch or two taller now, and a bit more filled out. Her teenage fashion looked a bit strange on a thirty-year old, but it was not totally out of place Hermione decided.

However, the biggest change was in her face. She looked more mature, worldlier. Hermione liked the difference; it almost made up for the hair. She gave a sly smile to her reflection. Although she would swear otherwise to anyone who asked, an undeniable part of her liked the thrill of breaking the rules.

* * *

Hermione ambled onto the main street of Hogsmeade as casually as she could. She resisted the sudden urge to cover her face and kept her hands resolutely in her pockets. It would not do to act suspicious and draw attention now.

She dreaded the thought of getting caught. Was her walking a little too stiff? Eyes a little too shifty? No, breathing, don’t speed up now!

Honestly, the things she did for Harry! Hermione knew that her anger was unfair, though. She had agreed to this, hadn’t she?

* * *

“Harry, Ron!” whispered Hermione excitedly as she entered the common room. “I’ve found something!” She dropped a thick book on the table in front of them.

“Hey, our game!” Harry griped. Hermione then noticed the chess pieces scattered around by her book.

“Oh, sorry,” Hermione said, not really that sorry. What she had found was simply too important.

“A book. Fascinating,” Ron drawled, annoyance in his eyes as well.

“Oh hush,” she huffed, exasperated. “It’s to help Harry in the second task.”

“Really? How?” he asked, bad mood evaporated. Ron had been really keen on helping Harry ever since abandoning him during the first task.

Hermione flicked to the right page and pointed triumphantly at it. “There! Gillyweed! ‘Consuming allows the subject to breathe underwater...’”

“Hermione, this is brilliant!” Harry gushed as he scanned the rest of the page.

“Well, we always knew she was.” Hermione blushed at this, and spied a matching red tinge on Ron’s cheeks as he realized what he had said.

“How do you suppose we’ll get some?” questioned Harry, oblivious to the tension between his friends.

“We could always just nab some from Snape—“

“No.” The word was said forcefully, startling Hermione and Ron to look at Harry. “I’m not about to go ahead and do what he’s accusing me of and prove him right.”

Hermione allowed herself to fume a little at Professor Snape. If he weren’t so hateful of Harry, they could probably just ask the man for some.

“Well, Harry, I don’t see another way of getting it short of buying it ourselves.” Hermione knew this was the wrong thing to say as soon as she said it.

“Hermione...” Harry pleaded.

“No—”

“Could you sneak into Hogsmeade? Buy some gillyweed?”

“Harry—“

“Please?”

Hermione sighed. She couldn’t deny Harry really needed this gillyweed. There wasn’t enough time to find a different way to breathe underwater. But still...”What about Ron?”

Ron’s countenance darkened. “Can’t. Detention this Saturday with the bat.”

For once she didn’t correct him. Bloody bat indeed.

Harry’s face then collapsed, looking sorry. “It’s fine, I’ll do it, Hermione. I don’t want to force you,” he murmured.

Hermione knew what her decision was, then. Harry was under so much stress, and she could help in this little way.

“No, no, you get into enough trouble already. I’ll do it.”

* * *

So here she was, sneaking through Hogsmeade in plain sight as a thirty-year-old woman with ghastly yellow hair.

Hermione scanned the storefronts for Dogweed and Deathcap, Hogsmeade’s herbology shop. However, the name of a different shop soon caught her eye.

“Tomes and Scrolls,” Hermione whispered to herself, reading the name of the bookstore aloud. She felt a magnetic pull towards it, knowing what was inside: books bursting with knowledge.

No! She mentally shook her head. She would not get distracted. She was here to get gillyweed and get out. A bookstore would not help Harry.

But...maybe it could. Who knew what information on gillyweed she could find in there? It wouldn’t hurt to learn a little more. And besides, she deserved this! If she’s the one sneaking out, she should be allowed to go where she wanted to. It would only be for a little while.

Mind made, Hermione marched into the store, grinning as she inhaled the scent of old books. Oh boy, where to?

“Hello, welcome to Tomes and Scrolls!” cheerily greeted a store person.

Hermione’s resulting gasp was highly audible as she nearly jumped out of her Mary Jane’s.

“Oh, I’ve scared you! Sorry about that! Was there anything you needed?”

She resisted the urge to snap at the woman to go away. Remember, stay unassuming and unmemorable.

“I’m fine, thank you.” Now screw off, and take your fake, psychotic friendliness with you.

“Okay, don’t be afraid to ask if you have an questions!” She flashed Hermione a beaming smile.

She immediately felt guilty for thinking so uncharitably about the woman, even if it was only in her head. She blamed the nerves for making her snappy, and set off in search for a book to relax with.

At the front of the store were books on transfiguration. Hermione strode through the aisle, not really in the mood but checking anyway. Next was charms, potions, arithmancy...

Hermione eventually found herself at the back of the stone in the miscellaneous section. Here, a glimmer in the corner of her eye caught her attention. It was a book title written in gold: _The Morality of Magic_.

Hermione reached for it, unknowingly compelled. She turned the book over in her hand, observing its royal purple hue, before flipping to a random page and reading from the top.

“ _...aspects of pureblood supremacy are well-intentioned._ ” What? What kind of bigoted book had she just picked up? Despite that fact, Hermione read on. “ _Some people see the ideals as protective, not just for wizards but for muggles also. Some oppose wizards dating muggles for the same reason we do not allow teachers to date their students: the difference in power. Or, at least, a perceived difference in power. There is—“_

“Interesting book?” interrupted a smooth voice behind her ear, and for the second time that day, Hermione almost had a heart attack.

She startled backwards into the body behind her, flinched away when she bumped into him, and quickly whirled around to stare directly into the face of Professor Snape.

“Oh, don’t be alarmed. I only meant to inquire as to what you were reading.” When Hermione didn’t say anything, he continued, looking down at the book now held limply in her hands. “Dahlia Niom. A controversial author, especially due to the book you’re holding right now.”

“Huh,” she said faintly. Snape had caught her. She was doomed. There would be no foreseeable end to her detentions.

“I don’t recall ever seeing you before. Did you go to Hogwarts?” he then asked, and Hermione suddenly felt a spark of hope. He didn’t recognize her; he didn’t recognize her! Thank God for second-rate aging potions!

“Oh, yeah, I was homeschooled,” she replied, desperately trying to brainstorm a way to get out of this situation without raising the Professor’s suspicion. “We’ve never seen each other before, probably.”

He raised an eyebrow at this. “Then let me introduce myself. I am Severus Snape, professor of potions at Hogwarts. It’s a pleasure to meet you...?”

“Sarah. Uh, Sarah Smith.” Hermione stuck out a hand.

Instead of shaking it, he looked at her coyly before—oh merlin—before grasping her hand and raising it to his lips. Hermione then experienced the surreal feeling of her professor’s lips on her hand. It made her shiver. She quickly drew her arm away.

“If I may be so bold,” he asked, still giving her that arresting look, “how old are you?”

“Uh, just turned thirty.” Technically not a lie—she had literally used the aging potion not much more than an hour ago. “What about you?” she returned shakily.

“I just turned thirty-five myself.” Snape was only in his thirties? “It appears we are the same age.”

“Er, yeah.”

“You know, I find that quite fortunate,” he said silkily.

“Why’s that?”

Unexpectedly, Snape slid closer, placing his hand above her on the bookshelf. When he spoke, she could feel his breath on her ear: “It means it would not be inappropriate if I asked you on a date.”

Alarms went off in her head. He was too close, too close! And why did that make her feel warm and tingly inside?

She slid out sideways along the bookcase, slowly stepping backwards away from him. “Oh, wow, um, I’m flattered, but, I-I’m really not looking to date right now.”

“Pity.”

“Yeah, well, nice talking to you, I have to go now, uh, bye!” She knew she sounded horribly flustered, but she was too concerned with escaping to care.

Realizing she was still holding the book, she thrust it at him, said an awkward bye again, and bolted out the store.

Hermione was very tempted to just bolt all the way back to Hogwarts, helping Harry be damned! Instead, she headed for the herbology store while attempting to ignore the glaring fact Professor Snape had just flirted with her. And no, she was not excited by it! It was the adrenaline. Yeah, it was just the adrenaline. Oh boy.

What Hermione didn’t see was the black-clad man chuckle to himself as she rushed out the store, satisfaction present on his face at bewildering one of the Golden Trio. Imagine a Potions Master not noticing when someone was using a very obvious aging potion! He looked down at the book in this hands, looked back up, and decided to take it to the counter. There remained a satisfied smirk on his face even as he finished his shopping and walked back to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for reading my fic! ~~I planned out future chapters, but I’m not sure if I’ll still write them. If I do, I’ll probably change the rating to a M. What do you guys think? Is this fine as a one-shot?~~ I’ve decided to continue this fic. I really did not expect all the lovely comments wow. :0 Thank you all so much!  
> And shout-out to Trickster32 for leaving kudos on all my posts. Hi lol I hope you enjoy this SS/HG heh


	2. sneaky

Hogwarts Castle was slowly meandering its way toward spring. The weather had lost its frigidness, flowers were shyly peeking out of the ground, and students were excitedly talking about the upcoming Easter Break.

However, this all escaped the notice of one Hermione Granger, who walked along the hallways of Hogwarts in a haze of thought.

Hermione was glad the gillyweed had worked, or so she was told. She hadn’t been there to see it herself, after all. She had been unconscious at the bottom of a lake, placed there in the hope some adolescent chosen out a cup would be skilled enough to save her, and would also want to do so enough to risk his very life! Honestly! These tasks were unconscionable!

But really, what had been done to her was nothing compared to what had been done to Harry. He had to be one of those adolescent risking his very life. Poor Harry! Though, she was pleasantly surprised to find Ron was chosen as the person Harry would miss the most: Harry really had forgiven Ron.

Hermione blushed as she thought about her being the the one Viktor would miss the most. It thrilled her: the idea of being wanted that much and of simply being appreciated. But it also made her feel guilty, as the depth of her feelings nowhere near matched his. It seemed those feelings were reserved for a certain red-headed wizard.

She was not toying with Viktor’s affections, though! Hermione’s teeth clenched angrily as she thought of that awful Skeeter woman and her sensationalist writing. The journalist had implyed Hermione was so repulsive that any male interest could only be explained by the use of love potions! Hermione tampered her anger down until it became just a strong disdain. Hermione knew Skeeter’s story was false. She shouldn’t allow it to provoke her.

The accusation hit a little close to home, however. Hermione knew she was not the most likable person. She came off as pretentious and full of herself; and she could be insensitive sometimes, as she wasn’t the most emotionally intelligent. Plus, her introverted, bookish nature didn’t easily bring about conversation, stopping any friendships before they could start. Hermione knew all these things intellectually, yet didn’t do anything to change them because, well, maybe she was also a bit prideful.

Knowing someone liked her despite her faults made her feel warm and pleased inside. Hermione sometimes wondered at Viktor showing interest in her—in anyone showing interest in her.

Hermione cringed as she thought of Professor Snape’s apparent interest in her. Well, in Sarah Smith.

She agonized over how strange she must have come off as to Snape, mentally facepalming over every remembered stutter, fidget, and poor lie. Hermione could only hope being homeschooled explained away her weirdness, and that he wouldn’t think it anything more dishonest.

This was not the first time in the past few days she had thought on her encounter with Snape. She knew teachers had lives outside the classroom, but she just did not expect _Snape_ to live his like that. It had been so bizarre to be standing in that bookstore, staring at him stupidly as he bloody flirted with her. It was so...out-of-character. Or was that simply how Snape was outside of school?

Hermione wished she could obliviate the whole experience from her mind, partiality because of her reaction to his flirting. More embarrassing than her teacher flirting with her, was liking her teacher flirting with her. She could still recall how flustered she felt when Professor Snape pecked her hand.

Even though she knew the adrenaline from sneaking out was partially to blame for that, the fact was she was proud she could attract a man’s attention. But Snape wasn’t just any man; he was her teacher! Mean! Ugly! Old! Well, he wasn’t actually old, but he sure looked old.

As she entered the potions classroom, Hermione quietly wondered if Snape knew it was her that day, and had flirted with her as a strange form of punishment. It disappointed her to think that was the reason for his interest, but it surely made sense...

Then the door burst open to reveal Professor Snape striding in, and all such thoughts fled out of her head as she mentally prepared herself for another unpleasant round of potions.

* * *

Hermione picked up some casserole on her fork and put it in her mouth. She chewed and chewed and chewed, unable to swallow. She wanted to throw up.

Hermione wished she could enjoy the Leaving Feast, but she was too preoccupied with the thoughts Headmaster Dumbledore’s speech had dredged up. Cedric Diggory was dead: an innocent bystander. Harry was traumatized by...by...the awful thing that happened to him. And the Ministry didn’t believe him, instead calling him mad and a liar.

What exactly would it take for the Ministry to accept Voldemort was back? Obviously, a murder wasn’t enough. Hermione thought about the way everyone had argued with Fudge that horrific day in the infirmary: Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape...

Snape had outright revealed his Dark Mark to the Minister. He had talked harshly, but Hermione could almost hear a tinge of desperation in his voice when trying to convince Fudge of Voldemort’s return.

Although no one had said it aloud, Hermione knew Snape had gone back to Voldemort that day. She recalled how the Headmaster had asked if Professor Snape was prepared. He had answered yes. She couldn’t imagine ever being ready for that.

Hermione then heard a distinct voice draw nearer, and she paused to listen.

“...off in Hogsmeade today, Minerva, so don’t even bother.”

“Oh Severus, but—“

“You will be able find me in Tomes and Scrolls if you have need of me.”

“You don’t get...”

Their voices faded as they strode past Hermione, but her mind was already whirling with thought. Hermione still had some leftover aging potion, and there was still some time left until the train left Hogwarts. She could very easily sneak out and pretend to coincidentally bump into Snape.

Wait, why was she contemplating this in the first place? Why did she _want_ to bump into Snape of all people?

Hermione then realized how curious she was about the man: about his role as a Death Eater, about his service to Dumbledore, about his irritable nature. Professor Snape was a topic she knew woefully little about, and if there was one thing Hermione hated, it was not knowing something.

Maybe talking to him as Sarah Smith wouldn’t answer all her questions, but it could help her learn a little more.

Plus she kinda wanted to see if he would still flirt with her.

As they got ready to wait for the carriages that would take them to Hogsmeade station, Hermione asked Harry a favor.

He looked at her a bit weirdly—after all, it was strange for Hermione Granger to be willingly breaking the rules, even if it was for books—but he lended her the invisibility cloak anyway. Maybe the Gryffindor spirit was finally rubbing off on her.

Hermione told Harry and Ron she’d meet them in Hogsmeade station and went on her way to the One-Eyed Witch. She changed her clothes and drank the aging potion in the tunnel, and snuck out the joke shop under the invisibility cloak.

Finally, she was at the entrance to the bookstore. Hermione waltzed in, and upon spotting the Potions Master, smirked deviously. She tip-toed behind him, deciding to greet him the same way he had greeted her.

“Interesting book?” Hermione couldn’t hide the smile in her voice.

Professor Snape jerked around, surprise on his face Hermione noted gleefully. But then he narrowed his eyes at her.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Hermione mentally faltered, as he sounded harsher than he did last time. Though, harsher was actually more normal for Snape, wasn’t it?

“Er, I saw you here and decided to say hi,” she explained tentatively. “Oh wait, do you even remember me? Sarah Smith?”

Snape considered her for a moment that felt like a lifetime. He spoke slowly: “Yes, Sarah Smith. I recall you. Age thirty. Homeschooled.”

“Yeah, that’s me!” Hermione laughed nervously as she looked to the side. Now that she was actually standing here in front of the man, Hermione couldn’t think of anything to say. She wasn’t usually so unprepared. It made her uneasy.

“Well?” said Snape sharply. “Why are you still in my presence? You said your hello—which was decidedly unasked for on my part—so leave.”

Hermione looked back at Snape with wide eyes. It was a bit unexpected after the way he acted during their last meeting, but she was not completely shocked by his rudeness. Hermione knew how Snape was in class. However, Sarah Smith didn’t.

Pretending to be offended, she said “Pardon me?”

“Perhaps you are not getting the hint your company is unwanted. I shall make it clearer for your simple mind, then: go away.”

“You were so”—seductive—“nice last time! Why are you acting so differently?” she asked, genuinely confused.

He sneered, eyes glittering. “The difference is I’m not trying to bed you now.”

Hermione slapped him, surprising herself. She didn’t know she had it in her to slap Professor Snape. The man in question didn’t react much except for a slight raising of an eyebrow.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself, you pervert?” demanded Hermione, still astonished by what he had said.

“You are much too easy to bait, woman,” he replied, almost gleefully.

Ooh, this man! He made her blood boil. She whispered furiously, “I came in here intending to better myself through knowledge, and instead I get catcalled by a man I barely even know.”

“Knowledge? You don’t really seem the type for learning,” he said disdainfully, eyeing her blond hair. “Could you even understand anything in this book?”

“Oh, so you’re challenging me?” Hermione tore the book he was holding out of his hands, admittedly more out of eagerness to prove herself to Professor Snape than from anger.

It was a potions booklet, thin and relatively new-looking. Hermione read the title, “New Applications of Gillard’s Theory?”, and looked back to Snape, who already had a smug smile on his face. He appeared to believe he had already won. How erroneous of him.

Gillard’s Theory...where had she heard that term before? Hermione was fairly certain the theory wasn’t even mentioned in the Hogwarts curriculum. Why did it sound vaguely familiar, then?

A scene played in the back of her mind: second year potions class. _“Miss Ferguson, are you attempting discover Gillard’s Theory all over again?_ ” said a familiar voice as a girl almost added too much poppy seed to her cauldron.

“Ah yes, the idea that poppy seed, primarily used in healing potions, can double as a explosive agent. I wonder what these ‘new applications’ they found are.”

For the second time today, Hermione saw Snape look mildly surprised. Hermione was pleased for a whole second before Snape ruined the moment with, “Oh, so a know-it-all then. Not much of an upgrade from idiot.”

“Well, that means you as much of know-it-all as I am, if you’re reading this.”

“But the difference is you’re fif—“

“Not a Potions Master? That doesn’t mean I can’t know stuff, Hermione replied. “Hey, since you are a Potions Master, Sn-Severus, exactly what conditions cause poppy seeds to be explosive?”

He appeared to hesitate, mouth slightly open, before continuing, “Well, Sarah...”

And so they continued to converse about potions. He was still mean and condescending, but Hermione found she didn’t take it too personally. It was much easier to view Professor Snape’s snarkiness as simply a part of his personality when outside the classroom talking to him as an equal.

Soon enough, though, he stopped the conversation.

“I believe this has gone on long enough—“ Hermione checked her watch.

“Oh, you’re right, Severus! I’m late!” she exclaimed, already stepping towards the exit. “See you!”

As soon as the door closed, Hermione threw the cloak back on and rushed to Hogsmeade station, drinking the aging potion antidote on the way. She prayed to God she wasn’t too late, missing the train.

She came into view of the train station and saw Harry and Ron holding her trunk, about to board. They were looking around worriedly, presumably for her. She slinked up to them, still under the invisibility cloak, and tapped Harry on the shoulder. Harry jumped, but otherwise didn’t react except to murmur to Ron, “Hermione’s here.”

When they got to their compartment, Hermione shed the cloak and gave it back to Harry.

“Blimey, Hermione!” Ron exclaimed. “What took so long?”

“Yeah, you don’t even have a book on you,” Harry noted.

“We were worried about you!”

“I couldn’t find what I wanted, okay?” Hermione snapped, uncomfortable with their attention.

Luckily, Draco Malfoy invaded the compartment at that moment, and Hermione was spared from further scrutiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Criticism appreciated! And before anyone is offended by the homeschool comment, I was homeschooled myself. I know we are weird.


	3. content

“Goodnight, Ron,” Hermione said as she tread up the stairs to her dorm. She brushed her teeth throughly and efficiently, the side effect of having two dentists as parents. As she plaited her hair for bed, she reflected back on the day.

The first day of fifth year had been interesting to say the least, with the Sorting Hat’s speech, Hagrid’s absence, and Professor Umbridge’s appearance.

That Umbridge woman’s speech during the Welcoming Feast left Hermione with an unpleasant taste in the back of her mouth. She was apprehensive about what exactly her class would entail tomorrow; if her suspicions proved right, she was not completely sure they’d learn anything at all.

It seemed the Ministry couldn’t leave Harry well enough alone. She knew they’d attempted to have Harry expelled before the school year. Because they failed in controlling him that way, it appears they decided to interfere in Hogwarts directly instead.

Hermione flopped onto her bed and stifled a loud exhale, as she didn’t want to wake her roommates. She should be going to sleep as well, but she couldn’t stop thinking. It was like those first few days of summer vacation where she had stayed up, unable to stop thinking about her conversation with Professor Snape.

Severus Snape was undoubtedly a smart man. Hermione learned in those few minutes of conversation with him more than she could learn by herself in a day. Hermione slightly mourned that fact she would never have a similar dialogue with him in the future. It had been such a breath of fresh air to have an intelligent conversation.

Hermione twirled the end of her braid in thought. But maybe...

She quietly slid off her bed and grabbed a parchment, pen, and book. She got back on her bed, closing the curtains around her before whispering “lumos.” Laying the parchment on the hard surface of the book, she began writing a letter.

* * *

Hermione hurried from The Hog’s Head to Tomes and Scrolls, anxious not to be late for her meeting with Snape.

Hermione remembered how much she had agonized over sending that letter. It had seemed like a decent enough idea in the drowsiness of that first night back; however, in the harsh light of day the next morning, Hermione had regretted requesting to meet him. She had only met him twice before for a few minutes as Sarah Smith, after all. And after three months of silence during summer, it was weird to randomly owl him one day to get together. He wouldn’t even remember her at best, and he would think her absurd. And besides, this was Snape, possibly the most foreboding man on the planet. Did she really think he’d want to rendezvous with a unknown woman he probably found mildly annoying?

So Hermione was pleasantly surprised when he responded, and even more so when he answered yes.

Hermione skid on a muddy piece of ground as she rushed to Snape. Hermione thought it was silly now to have spent all that time worrying. She was under an alias anyhow; it didn’t matter what Snape thought of Sarah Smith. And sure, it was a bit impulsive to send that letter; but she was a Gryffindor, was she not?

Hermione felt a new rush of adrenaline as she hid behind a wall and drank the potion. Nervousness and anticipation mingled with giddiness to create a heady mix that literally made her vibrate.

Or maybe she was just excited to talk with Severus Snape. She really admired how wickedly brilliant the man was.

Hermione burst into Tomes and Scrolls, feeling as if she could take on the world.

“Sarah,” greeted a voice from the side.

Or if not the world, at least one Severus Snape.

* * *

“...know Snape has a girlfriend now apparently?”

“Snape? No way.”

“Yeah, she’s got blonde hair...”

Hermione eyebrows raised as she overheard the students in the hallway. So that’s what they’re saying about her and Severus?

She couldn’t blame them for thinking that, though. She and Severus had become rather close these past two months after that first meeting. She was continually surprised at what a good friend she had found in him. Seeing him was always a welcome reprieve from all the politics going on at Hogwarts.

Hermione reminisced fondly of their most recent meeting...

Hermione shook the snow off her boots and took off her gloves as she entered The Three Broomsticks. The beginning of November had come in cold, and this night was no exception. She smiled brightly at Severus as she spotted him at a table, though she quickly tampered it down to a smirk. She knew he was uncomfortable around large displays of enthusiasm.

“Hello, you,” she said to him as she sat down. As a conversation starter, she said, “You know, I’m quite glad for our enchanted galleons.” Shortly after making their meetings regular, she and Severus started using the galleons she made for the DA to communicate.

“And why’s that?” he drawled lazily.

Well, the galleons spared her from having to go out in the cold to the school owlrey, and it prevented suspicious letters from dropping into her breakfast. She couldn’t say that, though.

“It saves us the inconvenience of sending owls to and fro. I wouldn’t do that to the poor things twice every week.” Having to censure her statements from incriminating slips sometimes exhausted Hermione. Sometimes, she fantasized about just dramatically revealing her identity and Severus accepting who she really was.

She knew if she really did that, it would ruin their whole friendship.

“Ah yes, you really are proud of yourself for being quite the smart little girl and coming up with that idea. Go ahead, give yourself a pat on the back,” Severus sneered.

Severus Snape was a brilliant man, but if there was one thing Hermione learned while getting to know him more personally, it was that he was also in possession of the sharpest, most sarcastic wit known to mankind.

A few weeks ago, his statement would have hurt her deeply. Even now, she didn’t know whether she should be appalled or amused. However, the more she hung around Severus, the the less she took his insults personally.

Insult were just a part of who he was, and it was also a part of him that drove many people away. Although he was prickly and unfriendly, Hermione somehow knew if she left, he’d be crushed. It would be devastating to finally find someone who wasn’t driven away by his caustic nature, and then lose them.

Besides, in recent meetings, the insults had turned less barbed and more teasing, ridiculous as it is to think of Professor Snape as teasing.

“You mustn’t let you jealousy show, Severus,” Hermione said, smirking.

“Jealousy? My, I was simply commending you. Really, you do deserve that pat on the back.”

Hermione was still getting used to that, too. Recently, he’d taken to complimenting her in the most indirect of ways.

“Really, would it kill you to be normal and just compliment me directly?” And before he could start looking too uncomfortable, she continued, “Did you see Niklov’s newest useless and unnecessary potion’s article?”

“No, I didn’t.” His eyes glimmered. Severus never outright smiled—always a smirk or a sneer—but she could tell he wanted to when his eyes glimmered like that. She had grown addicted to seeing that look in his eyes.

“Really, you didn’t?” she replied unconvinced.

“I viewed a recent article of his, but it was in no way useless.”

“So you did read it.”

“Yes, Sarah, I did. And you know as well Niklov’s work has potential to improve the absorbency of potions.” He was probably right; he was the Potions Master, after all. But Hermione found she had come to love their intellectual debates. Now, it had become a bit of a running joke with them, to fight over ever single opinion and concept and idea, even if she didn’t completely believe in the point she was defending.

“Yes, it has potential,” she conceded, “but his methods are way too unwieldy to use regularly...”

“Hey, Hermione! Earth to Hermione!” Ron’s voice brought her out of her musings.

“What, Ron.” She realized she had arrived at the potions classroom now.

“Nothing, just you looked a thousand miles away.”

“I was thinking,” she replied. She wondered how Professor Snape would be in potions class today, knowing they were going out tonight. Hopefully not in a bad mood...

“You know, you’ve been doing a lot of deep thinking lately.” Ron broke her train of thought again, and she had to pause a moment to think before she replied.

“Uh, well, yeah Ron. It’s what I do,” she defended a little too sharply.

“No, it’s—it’s different,” he growled, frustrated. “You’ve been acting different too.”

“How so? Do inform me,” she sniped sarcastically.

“See! Exactly like that! The Hermione I knew wouldn’t say something like that, in that tone of voice.”

“That’s preposterous—“

“And don’t think I don’t know you’ve been sneaking out, too. Where have you been going?”

It seemed Ron had had this brewing in his mind for a while. How had she not noticed?

And suddenly, she realized she was no longer hyper aware of his presence. She realized those brilliant blue eyes no longer made her tingle. She realized seeing him with the company of other girls no longer made her burn. She realized she probably thought of her teacher more than she thought of Ron.

Ron, her childhood love and boy she thought she would never got over, who she no longer had a crush on.

When had this happened?

“Where have I been going?” Hermione repeated Ron’s question, still unsettled by her realization. She bluffed, “Er, a girl needs some alone time to, you know.”

“No, I don’t,” he snapped.

“You know, to, er, explore herself.”

“Oh.” Ron blushed furiously, fidgeting with his left hand. He then graciously shut up as she knew he would.

It was a good thing he did, because right then, Professor Snape swept by. He glared, presumably at how closely she and Ron were standing, but just snapped at them to get in the classroom.

* * *

Hermione padded along the familiar corridors, sure of her hiddenness due to her disillusionment charm.

She had fallen into a rhythm of sneaking out. She would slink to the One-Eyed Witch, drink the potion, and whisper the password to enter the tunnel, sometimes changing out of her pyjamas if need be. She even no longer needed to borrow the Marauder’s Map, as she had quickly memorized each teacher’s patrol route.

An unexpected boon of the DA was it made her much better at getting to clandestine meetings.

Hermione could admit to being worried about the repercussions when she got caught. And yes, it was when, not if, because she was realistic enough to realize she could not keep up this facade indefinitely. Hermione could only hope she could build up enough courage to tell Severus herself eventually. Preferably in the distant, distant future, where they were great best-buddy-friends and nothing would tear them apart.

Hermione stopped when she got to the statue, and as usual, took off her disillusionment charm and drank her aging potion. Apparently, The Three Broomsticks had live music tonight. She hoped she got to dance a little. She smiled as she thought of Severus dancing, hoping she could cajole him into at least a little bit of movement.

Just as she was about to enter the tunnel, Hermione felt the strangest sensation on her back and compulsion to look behind her. She twirled around suddenly and heard a rustle of cloth not her own. What met her eyes made her good mood evaporate and her blood run cold.

It was Severus’s pale face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so guys ive been thinking of taking a hiatus from this fic—nah jkjk! Get ready for my best attempt at angst.


	4. distressed

Hermione opened her mouth, reconsidered, and closed it, waiting for him to say something. He didn’t.

She wondered at how joyful anticipation could so quickly be turned into horror.

An awful feeling was starting to overtaking Hermione the longer she stared at Severus. The silence was overwhelming, threatening to drown her. It choked her and threatened her knees to buckle. She swallowed harshly, as if desperately trying to clear her passage of the tension clotted in it. A small, strange noise escaped her.

Still he did not say anything.

Hermione’s eyes stayed on Severus’s face, unable to look away, unable to move. It was as if movement would cause everything to collapse. Hermione stared at him, taking everything in: the intense dark eyes, the lips pulled into a poker face, and even the pores on his skin. He appeared calm, but it was like the kind of calm found in the eye of a hurricane.

Hermione opened her mouth once again and whispered, “I...I’m sorry.” She wasn’t quite sure what else to say. What mere words could remedy a situation like this?

He appeared to not hear her, though he was intently looking at her. To the normal person it would seem he was wearing his usual impassive facade, but Hermione could tell he was feeling something different. What exactly he was feeling, though, Hermione could not tell. Hermione wished he would do or say something, anything. It wasn’t like him to do nothing.

 _He’s in shock_ she realized suddenly. Of course, he just found out one of the few people he had just lowered his walls for and became friends with was actually one of his most loathed students. Hermione suddenly noticed he appeared troubled and deep in thought. She could imagine the pain going through him now at the thought of her betrayal. A surge of guilt plowed through her, overpowering the silence. She had to do something to fix this!

“Severus, this isn’t what it looks like. I wasn’t trying to hurt you or anything—“

“Out past curfew, Miss Granger?” interrupted Severus, deceptively mild. “And take off that silly disguise of yours. I know it is you.”

“Oh,” she said in a small voice, feeling subdued. She felt as if she should say something. But she couldn’t come up with anything, so she jerkily took out the antidote and downed it, feeling herself shift. She looked back up at Severus as he started talking again.

“I see you have seen it fit to break the rules once again,” he said softly, “It‘s quite evident now you don’t follow what you so fervently preach about following the rules.“

“But—“

“Do not interrupt me!” he yelled. The anger hidden behind his eyes unleashed suddenly, and her protest died in her throat. “You have no right to justify yourself after what you’ve done. You deceived me—lied to me. And just when I was beginning to think...”

Hermione was petrified. It felt hard to think past the blaring guilt in her mind loudly accusing her of the terrible wrong she had committed. What had she done? How could she have hurt her Severus so badly?

He continued in a slightly quieter, though no less angrier voice, “Well, it matters not now. I assume you were trying to play a prank. Potter put you up to this didn’t he? The brat.”

Hermione felt the normal surge of righteousness indignation at this unwarranted slight to Harry. Still shaken by the evening’s events, she spoke before completely thinking through her words: “Harry did not put me up to this. It was my choice to—“

“Your choice, Miss Granger? Unexpected, but that makes it all the more disappointing.”

Now, Hermione was mad on her own behalf. Severus had to understand she just wanted to be his friend, not play with his feelings!

“No, Severus, I wasn’t playing a prank on you. I didn’t mean you any harm!” She defended. “You’re overreacting. And besides, you probably knew it was me the whole time. Or were you really duped by a teenager girl?”

There, the suspicions she’d had in her mind since their first meeting has finally come to light. She glared at him. He glared back.

“I thought I had made a friend,” he said simply. And all of the fight whooshed out of her. “But it’s clear now you never felt the same.”

The void left in her was filling in with that awful silence and shame again. Words gathered in her mind, only to flit away at the next pressing thought.

“I suppose it’s better that I found out sooner rather than later. Go back to your dorm, Miss Granger,” he commanded as he started to move away.

Her arm jolted out as if to stop him. Hermione could feel tears burning in her eyes as she rushed to think of something to say.

“No—don’t pretend to feel bad.” The statement perversely only made her to feel worse. “You will speak nothing of this.”

“But I—yes, sir.”

He spun on his heel and strode away, not even making sure she returned to her dorm. The tears burning in her eyes finally fell.

* * *

Hermione stayed in bed a few minutes, trying to convince herself maybe she had a temperature, or perhaps a stomachache, before she finally conceded she felt fine and shuffled out of bed.

Well, she felt physically fine, anyhow. Emotionally, she was a turmoiled mess. Her conscience twisted painfully inside her as she thought about last night.

After getting back to bed, she had managed to keep it together for two minutes before bawling her eyes out. She had slobbered snot and drool all over her pillow as she hiccuped through tears, and now all that was left was this ache, this emptiness.

There were no more tears this morning. Just pain.

Hermione shook her head. She was being melodramatic, and Hermione was not melodramatic. Hermione was sensible, focused, even-headed.

She sensibly thought it was fortunate Lavender and Parivati woke up so late, because it meant she could avoid their questions about her puffy eyes, and the shame she felt whenever she thought of Severus—Hermione sighed. There would be no focused Hermione today, would there?

She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and closed her eyes. She knew she looked a fright, more so than she usually did in the mornings. For a moment in time, Hermione dearly regretted not listening to her dorm mates’ prattle on beauty charms. Else, she might have known to to hide the bags under her eyes. Oh well, thinking about it would do nothing. She splashed some cold water on her face, hoping that would do something, before getting on with brushing her teeth.

She came out of the bathroom freshly changed and showered, and feeling no readier to take on the day. She tried looking on the bright side; at least she had no potions class today.

Which only meant she was a coward for being happy about that. She already knew that however. That she was a coward. A coward for being too afraid to admit to Severus herself who she was. A coward for wanting to avoid him now that he’d found out about her deception. An absolute bloody idiot for starting that deception in the first place! What had she hoped to achieve, really?

She’d had to be brutally honest to herself for the answer. It was not simply curiosity that kept her going to Snape. It was also pride that she, Hermione Granger, could befriend this man, where no one else had managed. It was a sense of power, that she was his only friend. The assumption was arrogant in hindsight: of course he could have other friends. Just because he didn’t blather on about them 24/7 like she was wont to do—

Two cheerful voices greeted her from the steps of the boy’s dormitory, and she got up from her chair in the common room.

“Hey, ready to eat breakfast?” she greeted back with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

“Woah, Hermione,” exclaimed Ron. “You look—er, has something happened?” he said, catching himself last moment.

“I’m fine, guys,” she grunted, dreading their scrutiny. “I’m just kinda sick. Believe there’s a bug going around.”

“Sick? Shouldn’t you be in bed, then?” worried Harry.

“I’m fine—I mean, I don’t feel that bad. I’ll probably feel better after eating, right?”

They glanced at each other and shrugged, accepting her words and heading to the Great Hall.

Hermione immediately felt a little pressure off her shoulders. Being sick also gave her a convenient excuse for any absent-minded behavior today. Objectively, she knew her focus in classes would be severely affected. Still, she would not bring herself so low as to skip classes because of a predicament she had brought upon herself.

She had already made a muck of things. She would not make them even worse.

Hermione cringed as she thought of how poorly she had handled last night’s confrontation. Severus had just discovered his friend was a deceptive little liar, and what does she do? She bloody accuses him of over-reacting. And right before she overreacts and claims he knew who she was all along.

It’s clear to her now he had no idea who she was. Else, he would not have reacted like he did. Right? 

Hermione sighed and looked down as she entered the Great Hall, unwillingly to even accidentally glance at Severus’s face.

“Morning, guys,” Neville greeted as they sat down.

“So, are we still on for tonight?” murmured Dean Thomas, who was sitting next to Neville. That’s right; they had a scheduled DA meeting today. Hermione groaned internally.

“Well, I might still this one out,” she said. “I’m feeling a bit sick today.” Harry and Ron nodded in agreement.

Neville gave her a sympathetic look and Dean said “oh.” before going back to their breakfasts.

Though she was relieved they didn’t question her lie, a small part of Hermione was hurt by how easily they all believed it. Did they really care so little that they could not see her obvious withdrawal?

Hermione supposed she couldn’t blame them. She had always known she difficult to like even on a good day. Being friends with Harry and Ron didn’t make her any less condescending or prideful or fraudulent or a liar—

Hermione finished her meal in record time. She got up to leave, but not before giving into temptation and darting a look at the High Table.

Severus wasn’t even there.

Her shoulders relaxed in relief, but even as she did so, she made a pledge. She resolved to not purposefully seek out Severus, whether it was to say sorry, or re-cultivate their friendship, or anything. At least for the time being. She didn’t want to resurface any feelings of hurt for him.

A fleeting thought told Hermione she was just afraid to seek out Severus (afraid of what he would say, afraid of making things worse). But she shook these thoughts out of her head and carried on resolutely to charms class.

* * *

Hermione wandered along the darkened hallways of Hogwarts, for once not with Severus on her mind. She was simply much too tired to be bothered with all that angst again.

She thought back to a few hours ago and cringed at the sheer amount of self-pity she had been feeling. She skipped dinner to cry, for goodness’s sake. What a ridiculous decision.

At the moment, it was a decision she regretted. It meant she was tired and hungry now. Hermione looked to the side thoughtfully. Would it be so bad if she snuck down to the kitchens...

“Oomph!” Hermione yelped, and with scary certainty, she knew exactly who she had bumped into. Who else would have the universe choosen?

“Severus—Professor Snape,” she greeting as she hurriedly put a safe amount of distance between them. “My apologies, sir, for bumping into you.”

He regarded her silently. _Oh no, not the quiet game again,_ she thought.

But then he spoke: “What, Miss Granger, are you doing out so late? Not off to meet another _friend_ , are we?” However, the barb was said with a surprising lack of acidity.

“Not at all, sir,” she replied, uneasy. “I’m a prefect. I’m patrolling.”

That wasn’t completely true. She was here because she was “sick” and couldn’t go to the DA meeting and didn’t feel like lying awake in her bed thinking of him.

Even when they weren’t friends, she had to censor everything she said to Severus. She growled suddenly in frustration.

“Severus, I’m sorry,” she pleaded, heartfelt. “I really am truly sorry for what I did to you. I honestly wanted to get to know you, nothing else. I didn’t mean to hurt you at all—“

Hermione stopped dead in her rambling apology when Severus placed a hand on her shoulder.

Throughout all the weeks they had met, they’d had an unspoken understanding on how weary one of them was of human contact. So there had been nary a hug, playful shove, or even handshake. She and Severus _never_ touched. Until now.

“Hermione,” he uttered.

Hermione tore her focus from the hand on her shoulder and met Severus’s intent gaze. She had only a moment to observe his midnight-dark eyes.

He moved his hand to cradle her neck and bent down to kiss her.

His lips were soft yet held a surprising amount of pressure behind them. He did not move his lips a lot; the kiss was almost a peck. It lasted only a few seconds before he brought his head back up.

Hermione stared at Severus with an increasing sense of getting lost. She felt transported back to that day when she first encountered Severus as Sarah Smith. So she did now what she did then.

She ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm, what is Severus playing at? Thoughts? =3


	5. questioning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note; this chapter is not social commentary, or even necessarily my views on underaged relationships. I’m simply writing fanfic, so take what Hermione thinks with a grain of salt. Enjoy the chapter.

Professor Snape _kissed_ me. _Professor_ Snape kissed me. Professor _Snape_ kissed me.

Hermione didn’t know which word of that sentence was the most shocking.

Professor Snape kissed _me._

Why?

Why would he do that if he was angry with her? Why kiss her _after_ finding out who she really was, and not before? Why would a man in his thirties kiss a teenager?

 _Pedophile?_ Hermione thought, disturbed, as she slowed down to catch her breath.

But no, calling Severus a pedophile was unfair. For while she was not an adult yet, she was definitely no child. At sixteen, she was completely physically mature. Intellectually, she held a level of maturity much more than her peers. She could take on responsibility and make important decisions, and she mostly knew the difference between right and wrong.

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Hermione knew this was wrong—so wrong. Hermione knew what she was feeling was wrong. It was why she had denied the truth of it, even to herself, for so long.

She liked Severus...romantically.

He invaded Hermione’s head almost every hour of the day. Thoughts of him made her smile at random moments. Her whole week was spent in anticipation of his company. And the thought of the loss of their whole relationship made her heart ache.

Hermione could call Severus a pervert seven different ways and work herself up into a righteous indignation. But her finding faults in Severus’s actions—be they truly problematic or not—would only be an attempt of distraction from what she felt for him.

Hermione knew she should report Professor Snape for kissing a student, for making advances on an underaged girl. But she knew with the same amount of certainty that she would not. Hermione wasn’t even completely sure why.

What next, then? What would he do? What would she do? She hadn’t the faintest clue.

Hermione spent the night laying in bed with her eyes closed and mind whirling, pretending to sleep.

* * *

_7, Hogs H?_

Hermione had woken Saturday morning to find this message on her galleon—her _Severus_ galleon. Such small, innocuous marks. And yet there was a world of questions and uncertainties and implications behind them.

This was their usual way of planning a meeting. One would specify time and place, and the other would accept or decline. Severus had just asked her to meet with him at 7 o’clock today in the Hogs Head.

More important than the question of why, was the question of whether she would accept.

Hermione was conflicted as to the chosen location. The Hogs Head was not known for being a nice and safe bar. One might even describe it as shady.

However, Hermione was more conflicted about the person she was meeting. Severus Snape was a mystery—an unknown. Her sense of curiosity was telling her yes, but her caution was screaming no.

Why would he ask to see her in the most dubious bar in Hogsmeade? What would he say? What would he do? Would she finally get an explanation for the kiss?

Did Hermione trust Severus?

Hermione looked down at the galleon, considered, and replied with her answer.

* * *

Hermione softly skipped down the stairs, potion hidden in her flowing school robes. Her fingers tingled in a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Was she really doing this?

She let out a small groan as she noticed Ron and Harry playing chess by the fireplace, but she kept on walking. They probably wouldn’t notice her, engaged in the company of other students as they were; and if they did, she would simply tell them she was going to the library.

Hermione had gotten to the portrait exit when she heard Ron call out to her. She stopped, groaning a little harder, and spun around on her foot.

She was met with the sight of two men approaching her, one with a determined stride and the other following uncertainly.

“Ron, what is it? I was just going to the library,” she said as innocently as she could.

Ron looked at her, unimpressed, and stated, “We need to talk.”

They were words she had dreaded, yet expected. “I don’t really have time for this,” she dismissed as she stepped through the portrait hole. “We can talk after I’m done studying, maybe.”

“No, we talk now,” he determined, exiting Gryffindor Tower with her. “We’ve put this off long enough.”

“Talk about what?” Harry asked.

“About nothing, Harry.”

“Hermione,” Ron growled warningly.

Hermione sighed, knowing it would take longer to convince Ron to go away than to agree to talk to him.

“Okay, but if I talk, you have to promise to let it be afterwards.”

Ron hesitated at that but agreed, now looking at her expectantly.

She really should have told them what she had been doing earlier, maybe even from the very beginning. But earlier, she hadn’t felt the need nor want to admit. And like sediment accumulating at the bottom of a river, each passing day had allowed her reluctance to grow. Now, she had to deal with the consequences and overcome her apprehension.

Honestly, Hermione just didn’t know a good way to reveal to them what she had been doing.

“I know you’ve been sneaking out, Hermione,” Ron accused. “What for?”

She breathe in deeply, hating how dramatic the action was, but needing the few seconds to prepare herself. “I’ve been sneaking out to meet with Snape.”

Ron’s eyes widened dramatically, as if making a sudden connection, and out of the blue he blurted, “You’ve been ‘exploring your body’ with Snape?”

“Hermione’s been what with Snape?” Harry repeatedly incredulously, Ron’s statement causing him to snap out of his confusion.

“Guys, be quiet!” she hissed. They were relatively secluded the empty hallway, but anyone passing by would be able to hear them.

Ron whispered frantically, “Are you being coerced? Bloody—well of course you are! You wouldn’t do anything _willingly_ with Snape.”

“Why—when—how—“ Harry sputtered, bewilderment evident.

“Nothing happened, people!”

“—what—“

“What? Harry, Hermione is bloody buggering being taken advantage of! That’s what.”

“Ron, I am not being taken advantage of! Why would you say that?”Hermione nearly shouted.

“You’ve been going out every other night, and it’s probably to meet someone because I’ve seen you looking at a different galleon than our DA one, so you’re trading messages, and then the other day you mention _that_ , and now you mention _Snape_ , and the thought of that and Snape and you is too much—and what else am I supposed to think?” Ron let out a shuddering breath, as if his rant had taken all the energy out of him. “Hermione, I...”

Hermione gazed at Ron in sadness as he dragged off, unable to finish his sentence. She knew what he’d wanted to say anyway. Once upon a time, she may have been able to return the sentiment. The knowledge that she could no longer made her heart ache for him.

“If it would reassure you to know, we’ve never so much as held hands,” she murmured, deciding to leave out mention of the kiss for Ron’s sake. “I’ve been meeting with Snape since September as just friends. Severus and I are friends.”

A silence followed this proclamation. Hermione studied the faces of each of the boys, one astonished, and one dubious.

“Since September? You hid this from us for that long?” Ron said quietly.

Harry made a noise of disbelief, “Are you being serious? Friends with Snape? Just—why would you want that?”

”Ugh, I don’t have time to explain, I’m meeting with him right now,” Hermione exclaimed in frustration.

So wait, Snape’s actually been willing to become friends with a student? A Gryffindor student? I’m, er, surprised, ‘Mione.” He was not outright saying she was lying, but it was obvious he was skeptical.

“Well, remember that disguise I used last year to buy you gillyweed from Hogsmeade?” she said, and understanding appeared on his face.

“So Snape doesn’t know it’s you?”

“Not until recently, no. Which is why I’m meeting with him today.”

“Hermione, you can’t do that—“

“No, Ron,” she interrupted. “This was precisely why I was so hesitant to share this with you.”

“I agree with Ron,” Harry said. “If Snape’s just found out who you really are, he’ll probably be mad. What if he does something?”

Hermione looked both Ron and Harry in the eyes. “I trust Severus,” she declared, finding herself disappointed in how both of the boys cringed at her use of Severus’s name.

“Remember, you promised to leave me be if I confessed,” Hermione reminded Ron as his mouth opened. He snapped it back shut. Hermione smirked mirthlessly, knowing his Gryffindor sense of honor would win out.

“I can’t break a promise,” he said through gritted teeth, “but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“It’s—this is just something I need to do. Can’t you see?” she said, imploring them to understand. She sighed, shaking her head. “Well, Harry, Ron, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with a friend.”

Hermione strode away from them, hurrying as to not be late. When she looked back over her shoulder, she was met with the sight of two men staring after her, both with concerned looks on their faces.

She tried and failed to not let it worry her.

* * *

Hogs Head was an uninviting place even on a nice day, so it was no surprise when Hermione found it downright sinister in the cloudy chill of a barren November night.

Or maybe she felt that way because of her reason for having to go in.

Hermione took a deep breath and pushed the door open brashly. Her anticipation from earlier had morphed into anxiety, and she cursed Harry and Ron for planting doubts in her mind.

She suddenly felt the urge to turn around and run back out, but it was already too late for that. She immediately spotted Severus at the bar, and she watched as he turned his glare at the bartender onto her.

She had her wand, they were in public, and she trusted Severus. Hermione told her nerves to calm down as she walked boldly towards him.

His glare started to let up, and Hermione felt some hope return. When she reached him she stared to speak, but she was forestalled by a palm raised at her.

“She’s here,” Severus said harshly, “so we’ll be renting our room now, _Abe_.”

“So your little lady friend did show up?” The bartender gave her an unimpressed appraisal as he said in an undertone clearly meant only for Severus, “I’m surprised, _Sev_ , that you managed to find somebody desperate enough—“

His sentence was interrupted by the sharp clink of coins Severus had thrown onto to the counter.

“Our room, if you will,” Hermione’s Professor Snape hissed in his signature dangerous tones.

Hermione hadn’t even spoken a word to the man and she was already scared out of her wits. She had forgotten about Severus’s temper. This was such a bad idea. She should have listened to Ron and Harry.

“Of course, sir,” the bartender modulated with false sweetness. He slid a key over the counter towards them. “Room number three. Find it yourselves.” And with that he turned from them, busying himself with something behind the bar.

And suddenly, Hermione found herself alone with Severus. _Well, not entirely alone_ , she thought as she noticed the other patrons’ subtle glances at them, _but...soon to be._ She shuddered.

They were standing side-by-side, and Hermione turned toward Severus, hoping to gauge his mood.

He did not turn back, instead simply telling the wall in front of him, “Come, Sarah,” before walking off, clearly expecting her to follow him.

Hermione stayed where she was, admittedly deriving a bit of immature pleasure from disobeying his orders. She even considered for a moment slipping out of the building. However, her sense won out in the end, and she sprinted to catch up with him.

He was halfway up the stairs by the time she got to him. He looked to her over his shoulder and raised an mocking eyebrow at her. She blushed, ashamed of her momentarily insolence.

However, embarrassment was soon being forgotten in favor of her gradually growing fear. She put her hands in her pockets, where her wand was, and observed her companion carefully. Why did he want a private room? Was it so they could talk freely about their situation, or was it for something more ill-intentioned?

When Hermione noticeably hesitated in entering the room, Severus sneered at her. She gave a haughty look back and marched in, gripping her wand a little tighter. She resisted the urge to walk backwards as Severus followed her in, closing the door behind them. It shut with a muffled thud. The hand holding her wand started to sweat.

Doubt invaded her mind. Did she trust Severus?

He raised his wand, and Hermione almost flinched her own wand at him before she realized the man was just casting some privacy spells.

“ _Muffliato_ ,” she caught him whisper. He turned to her, but kept his wand raised. Hermione tensed, feeling a new surge of anxiety.

“Why did you kiss me?” she asked suddenly in a rush, her unease showing. “Why are we here? What are you doing?”

For the dark-haired man continued to stalk towards her, wand in hand. At her last question, he stopped and sighed, seemingly frustrated.

“Miss Granger,” he intoned with an edge of impatience in his tone, “I—there’s a easy way to explain everything. Calm yourself.”

“What is it?” she spat, not at all calmed by his words.

He growled and stepped forward, taking Hermione’s wrists in his hands despite her stepping back from him. She looked at him wide-eyed, panic causing her to realize she never did find out why he kissed her. Did—did he want more? Was that the reason for the private room? Was she going to be—

“Look into my mind,” Severus demanded, and with his dark orbs boring into hers, there was a delay before she comprehended his statement.

“What?” she asked, her mood completely shifted.

Sensing this shift in atmosphere, Severus spoke more composedly: “Look into my mind, Hermione. I will show you memories.”

“Why?” she asked in wonder, hoping he wouldn’t become angry.

“I can explain this way better than I can with any words,” he said softly. He let go of her wrists and raised his wand at her, but this time she did not flinch. He asked a question with his eyes. She nodded in consent.

“ _Legilimens_ ,” Severus whispered, and Hermione felt herself falling into his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up longer than I expected, so I’m splitting it into two. That’s the reason for the extra chapter, if you were curious.


	6. answered

The memories first came in flashes.

Hermione blinked hard, getting herself situated in the new and strange place that was Severus’s mind. Hermione did the mental equivalent of looking around, which was quite peculiar because she could tell she wasn’t truly physically looking, but feeling.

As she felt the contours of Severus mind—cool, damp, dark—the first impression of a foreign feeling crossed her.

Satisfaction.

It was then she noticed the presence of a memory approaching her. It was of their first encounter, and Hermione was feeling Severus’s satisfaction of making her uncomfortable.

“ _Serves the little rule-breaker right,_ ” she heard him think as she watched herself squirm under his attention.

The git! He had caused her so much torment with his flirting, and he’d done it on purpose. But wait...then he knew who she was the whole time? What...

The next memory whizzed by before Hermione could analyze the first any more closely. Now, she sensed Severus’s surprise when she had sought him out a second time. She sensed his reluctant enjoyment at their potions’ conversation, and his frustration at her leaving before he could expose her.

The memory ran away as quickly as she had from him, and Hermione growled at not being able to examine them more closely. Why had he continued to associate with her if he knew who she was?

The next feeling she sensed answered her question as an image flew into view: curiosity.

Severus was contemplating the missive she had sent him at the start of the school year. “ _My first reaction is to dismiss it, but the little chit’s made me curious. Is the girl still mentally well?_ ” he thought seriously, and Hermione knew deep mortification.

However, she was not allowed to dwell on it as the next memory came by. It was of them meeting together, and Severus was insulting her. She felt his sureness that his rudeness would drive her away, and confusion that it didn’t.

Time and image shifted slightly and Hermione found them in a similar position. But this time Severus was insulting her and feeling pleased that she stayed despite it.

Hermione’s heart gave a skip at that.

She could feel herself approaching a more significant memory now, and she inhaled as she recognized it as the night Severus had caught her. How many time had she pondered, agonized over this night in the mere two days since it had happened?

Severus strode along the halls, on his way to meet her at The Three Broomsticks. She felt his surprise as he spotted her sneaking out to meet him as well, and panic when she started to turn. His steps faltered and his clothing rustled as he rushed to move out of her sight, but it was too late.

He met the frightened gaze of Hermione Granger and found himself at a loss for words.

Because Severus realized what this moment meant. It meant no more meeting together, no more cheeky debates, no more sitting together enjoying her company. No more blissful pretending.

And the idea of the loss of this—of them—caused him to feel an unexpected ache under his ribcage.

Oh Merlin. Oh no. It couldn’t be.

Dismayed at his reaction, he stopped breathing. The weight of the air around him compressing his chest made the act impossible. And all he could do was stare at her as surely as she stared back. For he knew without a doubt what his reaction confirmed.

How could he have allowed himself to care for the girl so?

And inevitably, alarm turned to anger, and he allowed himself to lash out at her. He wanted—needed to make the her feel as horribly awful as he did.

Her visible guilt made his blood sing. That’s right, how dare the chit cause him to feel this agony?

It was irrational, his anger at her for making him care; it was not her fault, after all. But even so, she had intended to hide her identity from him. She had intended to hurt him. So Severus allowed himself anger for that.

As he watched Miss Granger walk away, a tremble in her step, he smirked darkly. Destruction could be so satisfying.

However, when he was ensconced back in his quarters, cruel satisfaction could no longer distract him from the painful gap in his heart. He tried justifying it; it was necessary to be that harsh. The guilt would distract the girl. Merlin knew she was too sharp for her own good. And for her to see the situation as it really was, that he befriended her despite knowing her identity...it would be unacceptable.

But Severus didn’t know why it was unacceptable. He just felt it was.

He growled and sprung up from his chair, annoyed that he had allowed himself to act on feelings he didn’t understand. Severus forced himself to inspect them more closely as he glared at the fireplace.

Would it really be so bad if they were together openly?

 _Of course it would_ , he sneered at himself. The Dark Lord would skin him alive. _Minerva_ would skin him alive. She would never allow him, dirty Slytherin spy, anywhere near her Gryffindor Princess. It would be highly inappropriate for him to associate with one of his students, a girl half his age.

However, even as he thought them, he knew the thoughts were excuses. The Dark Lord? Severus was accustomed to hiding things from him. Teacher-student relationship, age-gap? He knew it would be highly dubious...but that would not stop him. It never before.

Severus was a Slytherin; if he had the opportunity to get something he wanted, he’d take it.

And that was the crux of why he really was denying himself Hermione. Because he was afraid to admit he wanted Hermione. He was afraid of what that meant for his feelings for Lily Potter.

Hermione’s eyes widened, and she quietly wondered at this revelation. She quickly resolved to never tell Harry.

Hermione felt Severus consider his guilt long into the night before the next memory came whirling by.

It was of them last night. She was currently rambling her apology, but Severus simply stared at her, her words going to the back of his mind. He was simply overcome by how much he had missed her. Even in just one day, an ache had developed in his chest that was only exacerbated by her desperate words.

Lily? Lily is dead. Hermione is here, alive.

He had to know. He had to be certain he was not simply misinterpreting his feelings.

Laying a hand on her shoulder, he looked into her eyes. Severus leaned in and placed his lips on hers.

She runs away. Severus is not hurt; it was to be expected. But he has his answer, now.

“ _I truly do have feelings for the girl_.”

As this memory ended, instead of another one rushing to fill its place, Hermione felt herself rushing out of Severus’s mind.

* * *

Hermione stared at Severus, wide-eyed. Time seemed to be moving sluggishly, and her thoughts impossibly fast. Processing what she had just seen seemed an insurmountable challenge.

“You trusted me enough to be in your mind?” she absently wondered , voicing the first not-nonsensical thought that came to her mind.

“I needed to explain, needed you to understand. You wouldn’t consider a relationship with me any other way,” he said curtly.

“A...relationship?” she repeated, feeling herself fall more out-of-depth.

“What else did you believe this was all for?” he sneered, pacing to the other side of the small room. “To satisfy your curiosity and part amicably?”

“I...” because yes, that what what Hermione was half-expecting.

“Miss Granger,” he snarled dangerously in the silence that followed, “you may refuse, of course.”

She had hurt him. For being such a powerful presence, he was such a thin-skinned man. And she had hurt him. Damn it all, how could they still miscommunicate so badly?

“I do want you, Severus!” she blurted. Severus went still and whipped her head to her. She blushed. “You knew that full well, so stop being ridiculous. Why else would I risk meeting you instead of reporting you?”

His eyes hooded. “Why indeed, Miss Granger? It’s apparent you realize how inappropriate a relationship between us would be?”

“I do,” she said bluntly. “A teacher lusting after his student? A grown man lusting after a sixteen-year old?” She wanted answers too.

A contemplative silence followed. “I would not call it lusting.” He said at length. “There were times I could not be sure my affection for you was simply platonic, or even paternal.”

She glanced away, understanding how he felt.

“It was why I kissed you.”

She looked back at him, waiting for him to continue.

“It did not feel like kissing a friend, or a daughter.”

Hermione let out a sigh of relief and sauntered up to the stiff man. She wove her arms around her torso and felt him stiffen more, but she did not loosen her hold until she felt him relax in turn. After a moment, he rested his hands on her back.

Compelled by his confession to do the same, Hermione admitted her uncertainties to him. Cheek pressed against his chest, she murmured, “I’m not sure what I feel either. I enjoy being your friend, but I also look up to you as a professor and protector figure. I don’t think most relationships are like that...”

“You are still young yet,” his chest rumbled against her. “The war is just beginning. Perhaps the best thing to do is to simply see where this takes us,” he said, an unidentifiable quality to his voice.

Hermione squeezed Severus a little harder. Then she smirked devilishly. “‘See where this takes us’? That sounds suspiciously like an unplanned, Gryffindor thing to say.”

Even without seeing his face, she felt him smirk. “I’ve had bad influences, recently.”

She pushed out of his embrace and batted his arm in indignation, but it was okay, because he had been _teasing_ her, and it felt so good to finally be back on friendly terms, to have _him_ back, and—

“I’m happy we’ve sorted things out. That we’re together.”

He blinked at her admittance. “...as am I, Hermione.”

Obviously, the man had planned for a relationship, but hadn’t gotten used to the idea of actually being in one. She hoped to change that soon. She smiled.

“It’s quite fortunate you didn’t refuse my proposal,” Severus tossed out nonchalantly as they made to leave.

“Why?” she asked, turning her head toward him.

“It would have been a shame if I had to tarnish your mind to erase your memories.” Hermione tittered uncomfortably at his attempt at a joke, and knew at least their relationship would never be boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, all that’s left is the epilogue. I might even make it in Severus POV. :0


	7. epilogue

Severus strode out of the Order of the Phoenix’s meeting room at 12 Grimmauld Place, clenching his left fist. This summer had been wretched, more so than usual. He almost looked forward to the upcoming school year, despite the things he would have to do.

He shuddered as he thought of the things he would have to do.

Other Order members crowded around him as they too flocked out of the meeting. They formed groups around the parlor, starting their after-meeting social hour. Or hours. Severus couldn’t know; he usually left before anyone could even consider the idea of greeting him.

Severus shuddered once again, but this time because he had caught sight of the mutt in his general vicinity. Ugh, and Black was blocking his pathway to the library.

For once, Severus wasn’t feeling inclined to bait him. He tried stepping around him, deciding to ignore him, but apparently Black was not feeling inclined to do the same.

“Oi, Snivilous, where are you slithering off to? Don’t you want to say hi to your favorite Azkaban escapee?”

Severus opened his mouth to refute him, realized it was true, and instead kept on walking forward. That is, until an arm in front of him impeded his progress.

Severus stopped before he could touch it and whipped his head to the side, giving Black a look of annoyance.

“I will not refrain from severing your arm from your body, Black.”

“Aw, there’s my vicious little Snapey!”

Severus wished for a moment that the mutt had really been taken by the Dark Lord earlier this year. Though he might be dead in the Department of Mysteries, at least he wouldn’t be here, blocking Severus’s path. Oh, and now the Potter brat was walking up to them.

“Sirius? What’s up?” he asked his dogfather.

“Snape here’s really set on getting into the library,” Black answered.

“The library?” Potter narrowed his eyes at him. “Oh yeah, you would enjoy taking advantage of my... _books_.”

Severus huffed his annoyance. Potter had learned the true nature of his association with Hermione during an occlumency lesson. Potter had succumbed to Hermione’s pleas to secrecy, but that did not mean the boy had forgiven Severus.

Though it distressed Hermione to no end, Severus was admittedly not terribly disappointed. It simply meant he had another thing to taunt Potter with.

“Considering I saved you from falling into the Dark Lord’s trap with help from one of your _books_ , I believe the right is well-earned, is it not?” Severus retorted silkily.

Potter looks mutinous and Black looked about to say something, but Severus plowed past the both of them, lips pulled into a smirk.

Upon hearing voices in the library, however, his smirk distorted as he ground his teeth beneath it. Another delay in talking to his Hermione?

“...must be done, Miss Granger,” came the unexpected voice of Albus Dumbledore.

“But just what have you asked of him? The way he looked the last time I saw him, I can tell he does not want to do it.”

“It’s true, you have made things more complicated.” Severus could hear Albus’s solemn gaze. “You have given him a reason to live.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Hermione sneered. “Are you going to take me away from him, then? Just because it’s bloody _inconvenient_ to—“

“No—love is never a bad thing.”

The silence afterwards was too much for Severus to bear. He glid into the room a little more agitated than he would have liked.

“I would rather certain secrets not be flaunted so carelessly,” he hissed. “And I will be having words with you, Miss Granger.”

“Do not be too harsh on your Hermione, Severus,” advised Albus with a twinkle in his eye. “Indeed, I was the one who brought it up.”

Severus glared at the Headmaster. What was the old man playing at?

Before Severus could tell him to get get out of the library, Albus was saying, “I shall afford the two of you some privacy, then.” He even closed the door on his way out.

He flung up the required privacy spells, and in less than a moment Severus rounded on Hermione.

However she spoke first: “I wonder what the Headmaster was thinking! He didn’t even put up any privacy spells.” She shared a meaningful gaze with him. “Do you think he did it on purpose?”

It was good; Severus almost fell for it. Almost.

“Oh, very good, Hermione,” he cackled. “Attempting to divert my anger? I see some of my Slytherin tendencies have rubbed off on you.”

“Severus I—“

“Pathetic attempts to distract me aside, I thought I had told you to leave the issue of my task well alone,” he hissed.

“Severus, I was trying to help!” she appealed.

“By going behind my back and breaking my trust?”

“Stop it! You won’t guilt me away again. Maybe the way I was trying to help wasn’t the best, but Severus!” She looked at him with pleading eyes. “I saw the way you looked when we last met. There was so obviously something wrong, so wrong that you couldn’t hide it.”

“There was a reason I asked you not to pry,” he growled.

“I wish you would trust me enough to tell me.”

“Ha, trust? It’s likely just your pathological need to know everything.”

She looked stricken, like she had not considered that possibility before. Severus felt mirthless satisfaction. But then she looked determined. “No, that’s not what I’m doing. I’m not prying into your secrets just to fill my curiosity. Give me some credit Severus.”

“Is that so?” Severus said skeptically. “Why, then? Why does it matter to you so much to find out, pray tell?”

Hermione looked hesitant, like he had caught her out on a lie. But then she looked up, and the glint in her eye should have warned him enough what she was going to say.

“Because I care for you, I want to help you because I love you.”

The little hesitant hope she had in her eyes slowly died when he did not anything back immediately.

“The Headmaster has been filling your head with foolish ideas,” he said stiffly.

Hermione clenched her jaw and gave him a look a great pain. Scrunching her eyes closed, she took a deep breath; and when opened them again they were filled with resignation. “Maybe we should break up.”

“What?” he yelped.

“That is, if we were ever together in the first place.”

“Hermione—“

“Have I been reading into this—into us—more than I should have? Our meetings during fifth year, our letters over the summer...were they just gestures of friendship?”

Severus couldn’t help it; he let out an incredulous laugh. And before Hermione could start to look too irate, he pulled her into an embrace.

“Silly girl, you know I consider you more than a friend.” He cleared his throat. “I care for you very much...more than anything else in the world.”

“Do you love me?” she gazed up at him with large eyes, brown and doe-like.

Oh Merlin. Distracted by their intellectual discussions, the way she had approached their relationship with such confidence, and her quiet strength though the world fell apart around them, he had forgotten how young and vulnerable she was.

He gripped her tighter as he murmured in her hair. “I may, in the future.”

Severus was pleased to feel some of her familiar resolve seep back into her stance. “Then that’s enough for me.”

As they stood there, amongst the books and cracking fire, Severus found himself wondering about love. What did he know about love? He had precious little experience with it in his life.

What was love, anyway? A feeling? A whim?

A choice?

Severus looked down at the girl he held in his arms. He had chosen her, hadn’t he? He had chosen to be with her, to protect her, to care for her.

He felt a rush of affection and such a feeling of contentment come over him. He knew he would choose to do anything for her.

Yes, he certainly could learn to love her.

Maybe...he already did.

He leaned his face close to hers, and that on that warm July evening in the library, Hermione Granger and Severus Snape shared their second kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “And an old man cackled in meddlesome satisfaction.” 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who stuck by, as this is my first fanfiction of significant length. (Which was also why the writing was so slow-going heh)  
> I’ve had this idea for a fic in my head for a year by now, and it’s so good to finally see it completed. However, I plan to write more SSHG in the future. So I hope to see you all again!


End file.
